What Dreams May Come - Career Counseling
Jan 4, 2015 11:27:11 GMT -5
Steeltoe Joe and Maelstrom like this
Post by DVS on Jan 4, 2015 11:27:11 GMT -5
His eyes went from a cold steel blue to bright red. Dan Van Slade began to shoot red rays of light toward an army of cybernetic drones. The blasts wipe out several drones, but this platoon has back up. Several more robotic organisms leap over the edge of the tallest building in this city, which seems to stretch beyond the clouds for a few miles and abandoning all laws of physics and structure. Super-Devious Dan Van Slade hovers about a foot above the roof floor. His hair is gelled back, but a long wet curl resembling a pigs tail drapes his forehead. A blue cape with a centered SD logo flaps violently in the wind since it's blowing constantly and often ferociously at this height. Dan puffs out his chest and the SD logo shines proudly in the night sky somewhere above the mesosphere.
"Strominites," The Super Deviant of Planet Hipton growls as he glares at the upcoming onslaught. He grinds his teeth, and snarls. "I DESTROY Strominites!" He shouts and his eyes begin to glow red. The Devious Super Being is halted by the oncoming thud, and torrential tremors.
A large robotic hand grabs the buildings ledge; the hand webbed and weaved with wire, bolted and welded together. The behemoth organism pulls up with one hand and whips itself onto the roof. The half robot, half human behemoth stands about sixty yards away. This creature wore a human face, but most of its head had been replaced with high grade steel and wire. A technology-human crossbreed like something out of the Robocop franchise, only envisioned by comic book nerds with a rather enlarged imagination. The creature stood about eight feet tall, and every limb was its own battle; all grotesquely gigantic and designed for violence. The organism takes a step forward, and the pistons exhale in his robotic knees.
"Malicious Stromination" Super Deviant grins, grinds his teeth and prepares for battle by wielding two fists like a boxer. "I hope you brought your shirt cannon?" Van Slade questions. He stares at the behemoth cybernetic organism through the two Godly hammers he likes to call fists. Stromination takes another step and his knee pistons roar. He raises a fist at the Super Deviant, and the gears in his shoulders pop and whiz. His voice is hollow, echoing through steel tubing and gritty like an aged smoker.
"I'll use your flesh as the leather bound cover of my autobiography," says the vicious machine, and it creates a frightening sound when it slams its steel fist into its hand. He loudly exhales and two cannons, double-barrels with just under a foot in diameter, are distributed out of Stromination's back via a delivery mechanism. The weapons rest on its large shoulders and the sights are set; the crosshairs are on the Super Deviant. Dan Van Slade hasn't had his final word.
"Did you say auto?" Van Slade curiously asks. He tilts his head to the left, ponders, and glares at Malicious Stromination. "Because I'm quite certain I'm going to tear you, and your little pansy-ass robo-henchmen to shreds," He stands at attention and puffs out his chest to promote the SD super-logo; and perhaps his rock-hard nipples that could cut glass like a diamond. "Then - then I'll use the pieces and have Ferari make me a new car; fuck it - with this collection I could have a jet, yacht, replica model T, submarine, and I'll use the scraps to build a tank. No need to worry about wasting precious resources - I'm a God among men - I make resources happen," he snaps his fingers then smiles at Stromination, "just like that - because I'm a fucking Godsend."
Malicious Stromination and the multiplicity of Strominites growl and wave their robotic arms at the Super Deviant.
Dan removes a cell phone, the Samsung Galaxy S5, from the waistband of his leotard pants. The phone cover is an Otter Box that boldly states: 'Best Fucking Phone Ever.' He slides his finger along the touch screen and guides the index to an application. He looks at the Stromagnus Brigade, led by the Abominable Malicious Stromination, and signals that this may take another second or two.
"Just a moment," Dan states as he guides his index finger across the touch screen once more. "Ah-HA!" He shouts as he immediately poses. He turns the phone toward himself, purses his lips to blow a kiss, and then takes a snapshot. He briefly looks at the result and then at the ruthless roughshod platoon waging to rip him limb from limb. "Pre-battle selfy," Dan smiles as he continues to scroll through his phone. "Let me just upload this to Facebook real quick and then we can fuck up shop, ya'dig?"His eyes went from a cold steel blue to bright red. Dan Van Slade began to shoot red rays of light toward an army of cybernetic drones. The blasts wipe out several drones, but this platoon has back up. Several more robotic organisms leap over the edge of the tallest building in this city, which seems to stretch beyond the clouds for a few miles and abandoning all laws of physics and structure. Super-Devious Dan Van Slade hovers about a foot above the roof floor. His hair is gelled back, but a long wet curl resembling a pigs tail drapes his forehead. A blue cape with a centered SD logo flaps violently in the wind since it's blowing constantly and often ferociously at this height. Dan puffs out his chest and the SD logo shines proudly in the night sky somewhere above the mesosphere.
"Strominites," The Super Deviant of Planet Hipton growls as he glares at the upcoming onslaught. He grinds his teeth, and snarls. "I DESTROY Strominites!" He shouts and his eyes begin to glow red. The Devious Super Being is halted by the oncoming thud, and torrential tremors.
A large robotic hand grabs the buildings ledge; the hand webbed and weaved with wire, bolted and welded together. The behemoth organism pulls up with one hand and whips itself onto the roof. The half robot, half human behemoth stands about sixty yards away. This creature wore a human face, but most of its head had been replaced with high grade steel and wire. A technology-human crossbreed like something out of the Robocop franchise, only envisioned by comic book nerds with a rather enlarged imagination. The creature stood about eight feet tall, and every limb was its own battle; all grotesquely gigantic and designed for violence. The organism takes a step forward, and the pistons exhale in his robotic knees.
"Malicious Stromination" Super Deviant grins, grinds his teeth and prepares for battle by wielding two fists like a boxer. "I hope you brought your shirt cannon?" Van Slade questions. He stares at the behemoth cybernetic organism through the two Godly hammers he likes to call fists. Stromination takes another step and his knee pistons roar. He raises a fist at the Super Deviant, and the gears in his shoulders pop and whiz. His voice is hollow, echoing through steel tubing and gritty like an aged smoker.
"I'll use your flesh as the leather bound cover of my autobiography," says the vicious machine, and it creates a frightening sound when it slams its steel fist into its hand. He loudly exhales and two cannons, double-barrels with just under a foot in diameter, are distributed out of Stromination's back via a delivery mechanism. The weapons rest on its large shoulders and the sights are set; the crosshairs are on the Super Deviant. Dan Van Slade hasn't had his final word.
"Did you say auto?" Van Slade curiously asks. He tilts his head to the left, ponders, and glares at Malicious Stromination. "Because I'm quite certain I'm going to tear you, and your little pansy-ass robo-henchmen to shreds," He stands at attention and puffs out his chest to promote the SD super-logo; and perhaps his rock-hard nipples that could cut glass like a diamond. "Then - then I'll use the pieces and have Ferari make me a new car; fuck it - with this collection I could have a jet, yacht, replica model T, submarine, and I'll use the scraps to build a tank. No need to worry about wasting precious resources - I'm a God among men - I make resources happen," he snaps his fingers then smiles at Stromination, "just like that - because I'm a fucking Godsend."
Malicious Stromination and the multiplicity of Strominites growl and wave their robotic arms at the Super Deviant.
Dan removes a cell phone, the Samsung Galaxy S5, from the waistband of his leotard pants. The phone cover is an Otter Box that boldly states: 'Best Fucking Phone Ever.' He slides his finger along the touch screen and guides the index to an application. He looks at the Stromagnus Brigade, led by the Abominable Malicious Stromination, and signals that this may take another second or two.
"Just a moment," Dan states as he guides his index finger across the touch screen once more. "Ah-HA!" He shouts as he immediately poses. He turns the phone toward himself, purses his lips to blow a kiss, and then takes a snapshot. He briefly looks at the result and then at the ruthless roughshod platoon waging to rip him limb from limb. "Pre-battle selfy," Dan smiles as he continues to scroll through his phone. "Let me just upload this to Facebook real quick and then we can fuck up shop, ya'dig?"
The upload finishes, and then the Man they call Super Deviant takes a final journey through the netherworld's of his cellular device to land on a little application called Pandora.
"Initiate WHOOP ASS MUSIC ...!" His voice escalates and resonates with the cybernetic bastions of death as he unhinges a small kick-stand built within the phones outer safety cover. He walks the phone to a generator placed significantly in the center of building's rooftop. He places the phone on top of the generator but the heavy winds due to being at a historic height that defies all laws of nature and physics tend to keep blowing the phone over. Dan wastes no time - his eyes light red and then release a red laser beam that begins to weld the phone into the generator's metal exterior. The job is done, and Dan returns a smile. The music begins with the press of a button asProdigy's hit "Smack My Bitch Up" begins to play at the one minute and seventeen second mark.
Malicious Stromination grinds his razor sharp platinum tipped teeth, and growls. He releases a vociferous roar and then suddenly begins to transform from eight foot robotic organism into a clay version that seems to be the image of the 'Wallace and Gromit' claymation designers. His claymated cannons explode and released are four large missiles directed at the newly claymated Super Deviant. His clay cape waves in the wind as his bulbous eyes widen. The Strominites engage, and some reveal large robotic-clay tentacles that begin to guide them toward the Super Deviant as if he were fighting ingrate robotic offspring of Doctor Octopus.
The missiles explode halfway through their journey and their innards - twenty t-shirts with the face of WCF Superstar Maelstrom's advertised all over them.
"Such a PAIN in my ASS!" Van Slade shouts as he shoots heated laser beams from his eyes. The beams clash with the oncoming wave of deadly Maelstrom paraphernalia and the linen explodes into ashes that fall onto the roof top like snow flakes. His accuracy is impeccable and he doesn't miss a t-shirt. Malicious Stromination is pleased, but not impressed with his goons. He looks at his stagnant army and angrily advises them to take charge.
"FUCK...HIM...UP!" The machine commands, and he signals toward the Super Deviant. The Strominites all positively release an outburst and then the brigade disbands in multiple directions of attack.
A tentacle rages toward the most Devious Super Being in the galaxy, but he counters with a laser beam that melts the steel into a liquid that pours to the rooftop floor and quickly solidifies into an amoeba-esque puddle of fail. A Strominite attacks with a whipping tentacle from the side but the Super Deviant is too quick to be had, and he delivers a furious left hook that blasts the tentacle and sends the Strominite swirling like a helicopter into the starry sky. Another Strominite wastes no time, and slithers a tentacle around Super Deviant's ankles, but the Galactic Bad Ass is capable of responding with a laser beam that frees him from the grapple. A hovering Strominite releases a net from above Van Slade, but the Magnificent Milky Way Warrior shoots another set of beams that burn a hole through the netting, and then straight through the cybernetic core of the Strominite's being. The robot instantly explodes and showers the scene with metallic limbs and firey embers of a lost battle.
A heat wave separates the villainous Malicious Stromination from his ultimate doom at the hands of the Ole' Dirty Disciple of Deviance; the Super Deviant - Dan Van Slade. Their eyes meet, and glow red. Dan Van Slade half smirks. Malicious Stromination growls and bellows an immense roar that grabs the Universes by the nutsack! The event is briefly stunned by the consequential Earthquake following Strominations war cry. Stars in the sky begin to explode and sparks rain from above and onto the battlefield. The quake ceases, and Stromination pushes the pistons into overdrive.
"Oh, this should be good," The Super Deviant says to himself as he examines the onslaught heading directly for him. Malicious Stromination pounds his titanic boots into the rooftop's surface and charges toward Dan Van Slade like a rhinoceros in the heat of battle. The claymated Dan Van Slade is somehow capable of transforming the index and ring finger of his right hand. The fingers begin to grow larger then their neighboring appendages into two sharp and lengthy sword-like defensive pikes.
The cybernetic death machine is on a mission, and it doesn't end until Dan Van Slade's life ends. Malicious frantically waves his arms and destroys his own soldiers in his war path. He sends Strominates flying through the night sky, and there are some that explode due to the phenomenal sledgehammer like force of Malicious' cybernetic arms.
His journey ends when the two elongated sword fingers of the Greatest Galactic Super Deviant are accurately inserted through both of his eyes, through the woven web of wire and motherboards that make up his cybernetic brain, and instantly ripping through the back of his steel plated skull like a piece of paper. Malicious Stromination's face is a portrait of defeat. His body weakens, and becomes limp. The Super Deviant smiles, and hovers the rooftop with his capability to fly. He escalates to about nine or ten feet, and Stromination's life-less cybernetic clay body dangles from Van Slade's shapely arsenal. A crack; a rip; a tear.
"Goodbye," says the AOL voice over for the computer system within Stromination's internal core processor. Van Slade takes one powerful yank, and Malicious' torso rips from the neck and falls to the rooftop with a dusty thud. All Strominites cease, and shut down with Malicious' defeat at the hands of the true North Star - the Doctor of Deviance, and Master of Victory - the Super Deviant - Dan Van Slade. The proud Prince of Hipton transforms his hand to its original state, and his fingers slide from the gaping holes that once were ocular ports for Malicious' lenses. The Super Deviant hovers above a technological atrocity, and post-apocalyptic massacre with the head of the Stromagnus General in the palm of his hands. He stares down at his trophy, and work.
"That was easy," he pleasantly responds as a few Strominites, casualties of war, spark and pop in the foreground.
The head of Malicious Strominite twitches. This could be a postmortem cybernetic attack? Could his head be a bomb? The eyelids begin to flutter. Van Slade watches the eye lids quickly pop open and the lenses have returned to their normal state; but the left eye has the number '8' in the center, and the right eye says '30'. Stromination's mouth opens wide and the robotic head releases a screeching alarm. Van Slade looks irritated, and annoyed. He slaps the face of his beheaded enemy but the grueling alarm continues. He shakes the head. He slaps it some more. The alarm continues, and the head suddenly melts in his hands into a slimy brownish-green mush. The sound keeps screeching, and doesn't end.
Until he shuts off his alarm clock upon waking from his slumber. Because it was all just a dream.
What dreams may come.
The story of 'Devious' Dan Van Slade has yet to be told. Clearly witnessed is the intriguing and irrational immature disposition of an enraged narcissist engulfed with vanity and spellbound with sarcasm. This is not to be confused with microscopic bursts of genius that tend to rarely sneak their way into a situation or conversation. Dan Van Slade is a fool, and an idiot, but he's one Hell of an Athlete. Win, or lose, his longevity only engineers a gigantic fuck-wrench that grinds the gears that guide the Wrestling Championship Federation.
Without seeming cliche - let's delve deeper into the psyche of a scorned, and serious man. There's an answer in there. Reason does exist; albeit there lies the contrast. There may not be any reason at all? Dan Van Slade may never truly be able to give two shits and a proper fuck.
Now, take a gander.
The image in the mirror is the unshaven Dan Van Slade, but it's not the Dan Van Slade most are used to. Remember his recent dream? He's taking it rather serious. He stands poised with his hands on his hips. His chest is puffed out. He's wearing a tight leotard outfit, light blue and blood red in color. The logo positioned dead center on his chest is a large SD in red block text within a yellow diamond outlined in thick red. Yes, he's wearing a cape; and yes - red underwear over light blue tights. An uncomfortable, rather bulbous bulge presents itself. His hair is gelled back, and a curl drapes his forehead like a pigs tail. He's proud of what he has become, albeit disregarding the evident beating he retained from WCF's most glorious event of the year - ONE. He's left a window open in his room so that any sudden draft would lightly lift his cape for effect. There's a knock at the door.
Standing in the doorway is Van Slade's humble Agent. The casually dressed businessman defines a brutally honest suit jacket fashion sense and his Matt Damon looks give him that 'Good Will Hunting' sort of smart vibe; although he's not that smart at all and terrible at business. So, he gives off more of a 'Team America' Matt Damon vibe. He leans an arm onto the door frame and doesn't seem fazed by his clients outlandish outfit. He sighs.
"What the Hell are you doing?" David simply inquires.
"David," D.V.S. continues to proudly pose and amusingly stares at his reflection, "David - I had a dream," he continues with grace, and pleasure. He turns to his agent and takes a deep breath, but passionately responds. "I awoke this morning on an immediate mission," he pauses for a brief moment to perhaps ponder the relevance of explaining his motives to his agent, "and my mission is to rid the WCF of all mediocrity. All CRAP must go. You can't pussy out. I'll get you. One way or the other - the Super Deviant will end you," and Dan wildly stares at his agent while pointing to the SD logo on his ripped chest. "The Super Deviant, ya'motherfucker," he taps his chest three times with his index finger, "that's what this shit is..."
"So, a few weeks ago it's a Mr. Rogers fetish," David says as he folds his arms and continues to hold the door frame up with a casual lean to, "now you're a super hero?" He asks, but doesn't wait for a response. "I don't get it - I don't see how this is going to help you..." David waits for Dan to retort, but the couple is interrupted by a rather odd small fellow sitting in a leather chair in an unforeseen part of the room. He looks like the eye-sore love child of John Lovitz and Danny Devito; small, slightly rotund, balding with a black hair wrap, and a strange bulldog facial disposition.
"There's nothing to get," says the tiny bulbous man in the back of the room. He removes himself from the chair and stands about five feet, two inches tall. David and Dan both stare at him. Dan smiles. David seems confused.
"Who the Hell are you?" Asks a rather estranged David. Dan, or the Super Deviant, turns to his agent and isn't hesitant to respond.
"Who the Hell is this, you ask?" Dan questions, but doesn't allow an answer. "This, my friend, is my career counselor extraordinaire - a one Dr. Perciful Lee; or as some in the world of millionaires like to call him - Doctor Dangerous Lee," and then Dan looks at the microscopic counselor making his way into the conversation. "He's made Kings out of peasants and put the homeless in mansions; he's probably a fucking legend but let's not get into that discussion..."
"He has a wonderful talent," Dr. Lee states as he stops in position closer to David so that he gets the Agents undivided attention. "It's true that he is his burden, but you can't stop the man from following his dream," Lee turns to Van Slade. "He's a God damned legend in the flesh, David. The true Son of a Bitchin' definition of what the future has in store for the professional wrestling industry. You've got a gold mine before your very eyes and I don't expect anybody to understand the discovery just yet. There's too much at stake here. What do you do with it when you've got it? How do you invest in it? You just...let it ride. You nibble away at time until the fortune becomes your ticket to paradise," the doctor turns his attention to David. "Are you prepared to watch your client escalate through the ranks of WCF and become the next Slickie T? Creeping Death? ICE Beckman? Bobby Cairo...Steve Orbit...need I say more? These names, David - these names are etched into the psyche of so many professional wrestlers that some never snap out of the coma they dive into after facing these legends. Some people never live up to their expectations," and Lee turns to Dan Van Slade, "but this man -" he points at the deviant, "-this man is a mother fucking future legend..."
"I see," David responds. He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm cool with that."
"I was intrigued after our first session," the doctor continues, "and I wanted to maintain further contact with Dan. I felt that he needed my guidance. David, you certainly know how to get a man where he needs to be, but I doubt you know what to do with success once you've got it," but Lee is interrupted by David.
"But," David seems confused, and flabbergasted by the comment, "but I feel like I'm pretty damn successful. I mean - I do own a yacht that I tend to keep docked on the Atlantic shores of Porto, Portugal. I'd say I'm doing pretty well. My son goes to a Catholic school, my wife is a college professor. I live in an affluent Fort Lauderdale neighborhood. I drive a Lexus. Every media center in my home is touch screen. I'm pretty rich, guy," David removes himself from the doorway and is clearly showing off.
"That may be true," says Dr. Lee, "but, money isn't the symbol of success. When you chase a dream - success is more than money - success is literally everything. You don't stop until you own the world," There's a brief pause, and Lee continues. "Your success is nothing compared to the undefinable nature of the atom bomb that's standing before us. I'm not just Dan's counselor, David, but I'm yours as well. I will better the both of you, and we'll start with allowing Dan Van Slade to obtain his dream...," Lee turns to Dan, "...just look at the NUTS on this guy..." both men then glance at the gigantic bulge presented in the Super Deviant's tights. The Super Deviant quickly stands at attention with his hands on his hips. A greasy curl drapes his forehead. A breeze blows into the room and his cape slightly drifts.
"I'm going to fuck some people up," Dan says, chin up and staring at his agent. "I'm gonna have to badly fuck up Maelstrom's world," he continues. "This scabbed piece of shit thinks he can get involved in Dan Van Slade's business? Fuck'em - we aint got no use for this jobberish bullshit and amateurish antics. Cocksucker thinks he's some primed veteran surrounded by bitch-ass wannabes. This guy. A walkin'-talkin' turd with tattoos; as if God ate a few spicy chalupas and took a massive dump on the human race. I'm fuckin'em up real bad...and flushin' his silly ass straight down the toilet..."
"Ok," David studies his client standing before him like something off the cover of an old comic book, "so, you want to be a super hero?" David's question is answered in Dan's own special way. Dan Van Slade removes his Samsung Galaxy S5 smart phone from the waistband of his underwear-tight combination and holds it up for David to see. Dan smiles.
"I don't want to be a superhero," Dan responds, "no - I AM a super hero! And I'll stop at nothing until I've reduced the amount of fail in WCF to zero; until all evil vanquished, and every foe that steps in my way...burned like the charred remains of Maelstrom after our clash at ONE. There's too many mutants in this company, David. TOO MANY, and I'm going to make sure they don't continue to brainwash the masses with their stupidity," Dan presses the home button on his Galaxy, and then quickly glides his finger through a few options. An orchestrated dubstep tune called "Slay It," by Cryptex, blasts through the small speaker on the back of the phone. Dan oddly stares at his agent, and Dr. Lee. He mouths the words 'SLAY IT', which begins the bouillabaisse of climactic dubstep. Van Slade bobs his head back-and-forth, to the sides; he rotates his head in a circle. The serious nature of his motives are clear as he introduces his next chapter "I...am the Super Deviant," Dan shouts over the music as David blankly stares. Dr. Lee is bobbing his head with the music. "THE MOTHERFUCKING ALBATROSS!" Dan shouts.
"ALBATROSS!" Dr. Lee yells out. He throws his arms in the air as if he's being saved by a crazy Southern Baptist Preacher.
David still stands in the doorway. The agent takes a deep breath, sighs, and watches Dr. Perciful Lee continue an attempt to dance that's transforming into odd swaying. Dan Van Slade holds his head high, with his fists on his hips. Another breeze lifts Dan's cape. Dan suddenly begins to glow from the Sun's ray of light pouring through the open window behind him. A figure of myth, lore and legend.
The following is an excerpt from the transcript between Dr. Perciful Lee and Dan Van Slade. The interview was conducted on December 30; two days following Van Slade's loss at WCF ONE.
From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Client No. 023. Dan Van Slade. December 30, 2014.
Dan Van Slade: I lost.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Yes, and your point is?
Dan Van Slade: I should have won.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You're going to have to sacrifice a loss from time-to-time, especially on your way to the top.
Dan Van Slade: I lost to a Boy Scout Leader, and a guy who dubs himself the King of the Internet. I'm the best fucking thing that's happened to this place, Lee. THE BEST. How does this happen? HOW DO I LOSE TO A BUNCH OF RETARDS?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well...
Dan Van Slade: Maybe I should try my craft at something else? I've trained non-stop. I don't give up. I don't let up. I don't let these assholes push me down. In over a month I went from being the next best thing to being pinned by Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo in the same match; then I watched Jayson Price steal my victory like a bad virus. [Loud Hmph] Sons a bitches...no-good, SONS A BITCHES! Maybe I should take my college degree and be an accountant?
Dr. Perciful Lee: That option is still available for you.
Dan Van Slade: I smoked my degree. Layered the insides with a lot of light green, purple and orange hydroponic cannabis. I smoked it about two years ago. Why do I do stuff like that?
Dr. Perciful Lee: It's just who you are. You can't be mad at that.
Dan Van Slade: I smoked my college degree, Lee. I SMOKED IT. How do I obtain a bright career when I took the one piece of paper that matters most in my life, rolled it up, twisted the ends, lit it, and became the true definition of a higher education?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well, you have transcripts. You don't have to tell employers that you used your college degree to get stoned.
Dan Van Slade: I just don't understand it, Doc. I just don't. David gets me signed to the WCF because I'm a damn fine athlete in the ring. DAMN FINE. I've wrestled men far bigger, better, and more athletic than ANY fucked-up legend this company has to offer. Yet - there I am, once again surrounded by several individuals vying for my pride. Then, then this asshole named Maelstrom comes along and whips his tiny pecker out to piss all over MY parade? Fuck him. Fuck him AND his stupid dialect. Fuck his past, and fuck the fact that he's become the biggest burden in my rise to stardom.
Dr. Perciful Lee: So, would you say that Maelstrom is your biggest hurdle to leap? Is this why you feel the need to question the career you've chosen?
Dan Van Slade: No. There's nobody in the WCF that's threatening my career. I threaten my career. It's just the way my fate is going, Doc. There's no man in this company, not Steve Orbit, not Jayson Price, not a Vapor Queen or Queen Internet, nor an overloaded shirt salesman who can stop me. I'm still up. I'm still alive. I still got it. But, by the looks of it - if things continue to go the way they're going - I'm just going to have to push it into a new gear.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Tell me, Dan; what did you aspire to be when you were young?
Dan Van Slade: Well, I wanted to be in Porn. Then, when I was eight, I wanted to sell opiates like the laid back hippie guy who lived down the street from me. But, I didn't tell anybody that. These were ideas. I didn't want to be in an Electrician's Union like my father, or a Service Desk Consultant at Target like my mother. I don't dig every day jobs and careers like some pragmatic individuals in this world. I'm a dreamer, like the Generation Me kids of today. I wanted to be famous, and I wanted my name to be known by the entire world.
Dr. Perciful Lee: A drug dealer wouldn't help that. That's small stuff. That's a hobby, not a career. That's a hobby that gets you put behind bars for a few years, or a lifetime.
Dan Van Slade: It didn't happen, so I could care less. My personality could get me behind bars, anyway. Like I give a fuck? Truth be told - I've always wanted to be a professional wrestler, but my greatest aspiration was to be a super hero.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Like a Police Officer?
Dan Van Slade: What the fuck? No. I can't STAND the cops, dude. Are you serious? No, I wanted to be Superman, or Batman, or anybody with a unique super power that fights against the antithesis; although Batman is more of a psychotic genius. I want to whoop ass, Lee!
Dr. Perciful Lee: So, what's stopping you from obtaining that dream?
Dan Van Slade: The world.
Dr. Perciful Lee: There's nothing in this world stopping you from being what you want to be, Dan; except for yourself.
Dan Van Slade: You're sayin' that I can be a super hero?
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you really want to be, yes.
Dan Van Slade: Where'd you get your degree?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Yale.
Dan Van Slade: Really? That'd be an expensive shell. It enlightens me to know that there's a Yale graduate willing to tell me I can be a super hero. I've gone my entire life feeling as if this world only offers a practical way of obtaining THE dream. I never thought I'd see the day when somebody from an Ivy League school told me I could dress in tights and fuck the world up.
Dr. Perciful Lee: I'm telling you that anything is possible, Dan. I'm not telling you that you hide a source of inhuman strength and power. We're only human. I'm saying that if you want to be a success - you just have to make it happen. You can't let the world tell you that you can't do what you believe to be possible.
Dan Van Slade: Yes. YES. YES! But, what if I'm already a professional wrestler?
Dr. Perciful Lee: You're old enough to now know that this life is what you make of it. Starting over doesn't mean destroying the entire structure to build anew. Just start now. Tear down a few walls, but keep most of the property in tact. Be a professional wrestler AND a super hero.
Dan Van Slade: I fucking hate the fact that you're fiddling with my ASMR. WHAT A FEELING!
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you truly, honestly feel as if this is going to work - then do it. Don't let a loss get you down. You don't need to change careers because you've lost to three of the best professional wrestlers in the business. Think about it, Dan. Some men would DIE just to be where you are. It's their paradise. You're a professional wrestler! You've made it to the big time! Why leave now? Because you lost to Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo? Jayson Price? Who hasn't? Sure, there are some people out there who may be undefeated against these guys, but these men didn't get to where they're at because all they do is win...
Dan Van Slade: Um, yes they did.
Dr. Perciful Lee: They've taken a few losses along the way.
Dan Van Slade: True, but they win a lot.
Dr. Perciful Lee: The point is - you just need to get over it. Change the landscape, if you will.
Dan Van Slade: And become a fucking SUPER HERO?
Dr. Perciful Lee: And...become a fucking super hero.
Dan Van Slade: Oh man - I'm going to fucking destroy Maelstrom. Wait until Slam. Just wait. I'm so fuckin' hyped. I'm so giddy. I'm so damn anxious to crack his head open and remove his pea-sized brain. That could also be the cocaine talkin'.
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you want to be a super hero, Dan, you should probably tone down on the language.
Dan Van Slade: You think?
Dr. Perciful Lee: You curse, and a lot.
Dan Van Slade: So fuckin' what? Look, you're the one that said it doesn't matter what the world thinks.
Dr. Perciful Lee: True.
Dan Van Slade: So, who fuckin' cares? Look, Doc, Maelstrom has gone around and said all sorts of things in an attempt to prove his worth in this company. I proved that well before he stepped in this ring. Well, a few weeks before. My worth to this company is proven stronger, and far greater. We're both on the same path, but one of us has to win in order to keep moving. I have bigger and better things on my mind now that ONE is over, now that my career is safe, and now that I know for a fact I can be what I've always wanted to be. The only career that's ending is Maelstrom's. The only man dropping out is the Human Hellstorm. Talk a big game, bud. TALK A BIG FUCKIN' GAME. But, I've personally watched you lose two times - and I'm going to have the absolute pleasure to finish the trilogy.
Dr. Perciful Lee: That's the spirit!
Dan Van Slade: Spirit is all that I've got. The Wrestling Championship Federation wants to cripple my journey early by throwing me fodder filled with jobbers. I'm constantly booked against multiple people because they understand the power I possess in the ring. I can destroy MANY at once. And, I have. If only they wouldn't have signed that Maelstrom fuck - I'd have four easy victories under my belt.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You can't blame Maelstrom for your losses.
Dan Van Slade: I don't. I don't really blame anybody. I lost. That's-that. But, I was on a mission to capture the WCF Hardcore Championship before he stepped his fat ass in the ring. While he achieves revelations by deep throating garlic butter glazed breadsticks - I'm achieving my goals. While he's doing his best 'roided Jack Kerouac impression at some stupid fuckin' Buffalo Beatnik Hipster Lounge - I'm winning. While he's drinking cheap sucky-ass beer - I'M TOO BUSY BEING BETTER THAN HIM. I was on a mission, and then he interrupted it. God, I hate when there's annoying bitch-ass mother fuckers who have to get involved in your potential success...
Dr. Perciful Lee: There are always challenges to face. You'll never be let down by the next one, because it's always going to happen.
Dan Van Slade: Well, this Super Deviant of Planet Hipton isn't going to let that mother fucker get in his way any longer. On January fourth - this stupid little grind in my gears is going to finish. I'm going to decapitate Maelstrom in the center of the WCF ring. The world will look in shock as I then retrieve a toolbox from the side of the ring, and a leather belt. I'm going to mount his head onto the faceplate of the belt and then buckle it around my waist. Fuck'em. If he wants to ruin my chances at being the WCF Hardcore and Internet Champion - then I suppose I'm going to have to wear his head around my waist like the trophies I should be wearing already. We already know that's where Maelstrom's head belongs anyway - just below a man's waist.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You need a plan of attack. Talk is cheap, Dan. Talk is very cheap.
Dan Van Slade: Well, I'm a cheap son of a bitch. I let everybody else pay. I don't pay for anything. I conned an Asian guy, who looked like the Chinese version of Steve Buscemi - extremely odd lookin', to steal a few Maelstrom t-shirts for me at ONE. So, not only am I cheap in the way that I am capable of getting squinty-eyed chinks to steal for me, but I'm also cheap enough to pile the shirts in the middle of a random parking lot to re-enact me setting Maelstrom ablaze.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well, I suppose that's one way to deal with your failures?
Dan Van Slade: Don't use the term failure to represent me. Are you fuckin' insane?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Probably.
Dan Van Slade: Failure is uncertain, and that's because I'm still RIGHT FUCKIN' HERE and seeking vengeance. The only thing certain is death, and that's when we could say I've truly failed. Maelstrom's career has died countless times, but he's resurrected like the Phoenix - from the ashes of a bitch - so that he can step into the ring and get kicked in the fuckin' chin by my Godly boot. Jesus H. Christ - Doc - I'm going to fuck him up pretty bad.
Dr. Perciful Lee: I can see that's how you feel.
Dan Van Slade: I'm gonna rip the Coliseum from his heart. THUS SPAKE SLADEATHUSTRA! I'm going to skin him. Turn his flesh into a fanny pack that I'll use to store the teeth I've pulled from him. I'll chisel his bones into toothpicks so that I can smile pretty after a hearty meal. I'll put his brain in a jar suspended in liquid and display it throughout the world, at every event, so that all men and women know and understand what the brain of a loser looks like.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Ok, now you're just being weird.
Dan Van Slade: Yeah, well, he sang O' Danny Boy. That song fuckin' sucks. I kind of want to see him torn limb from limb because of it. Fuckin' jerk.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Why don't you now focus on obtaining an outfit. Now that you're a super hero - you'll need to look the part.
Dan Van Slade: Remind me to get more than one. I'm going to be a disgusting - violent mess after Slam. Covered in little globs of Maelstrom's innards, blood and chunks of cheek. You know what I've noticed? Maelstrom likes to eat. We should just call him MEALstrom. I should just cut his arms and legs off and cook'em in a stew, then force feed him parts of himself. Something out of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. Olive Garden, Los Pollos Locos - you name it - that sack of fail is greasin' up to get beat. Boy, I certainly hope he deep fried a strategy in that six piece - because there's no stopping this Galactic Crusader of Deviance. I've got a name he can use for me...
Dr. Perciful Lee: The Super Deviant?
Dan Van Slade: No - The Man That Defeated Maelstrom. WITH FUCKIN' EASE.
"Strominites," The Super Deviant of Planet Hipton growls as he glares at the upcoming onslaught. He grinds his teeth, and snarls. "I DESTROY Strominites!" He shouts and his eyes begin to glow red. The Devious Super Being is halted by the oncoming thud, and torrential tremors.
A large robotic hand grabs the buildings ledge; the hand webbed and weaved with wire, bolted and welded together. The behemoth organism pulls up with one hand and whips itself onto the roof. The half robot, half human behemoth stands about sixty yards away. This creature wore a human face, but most of its head had been replaced with high grade steel and wire. A technology-human crossbreed like something out of the Robocop franchise, only envisioned by comic book nerds with a rather enlarged imagination. The creature stood about eight feet tall, and every limb was its own battle; all grotesquely gigantic and designed for violence. The organism takes a step forward, and the pistons exhale in his robotic knees.
"Malicious Stromination" Super Deviant grins, grinds his teeth and prepares for battle by wielding two fists like a boxer. "I hope you brought your shirt cannon?" Van Slade questions. He stares at the behemoth cybernetic organism through the two Godly hammers he likes to call fists. Stromination takes another step and his knee pistons roar. He raises a fist at the Super Deviant, and the gears in his shoulders pop and whiz. His voice is hollow, echoing through steel tubing and gritty like an aged smoker.
"I'll use your flesh as the leather bound cover of my autobiography," says the vicious machine, and it creates a frightening sound when it slams its steel fist into its hand. He loudly exhales and two cannons, double-barrels with just under a foot in diameter, are distributed out of Stromination's back via a delivery mechanism. The weapons rest on its large shoulders and the sights are set; the crosshairs are on the Super Deviant. Dan Van Slade hasn't had his final word.
"Did you say auto?" Van Slade curiously asks. He tilts his head to the left, ponders, and glares at Malicious Stromination. "Because I'm quite certain I'm going to tear you, and your little pansy-ass robo-henchmen to shreds," He stands at attention and puffs out his chest to promote the SD super-logo; and perhaps his rock-hard nipples that could cut glass like a diamond. "Then - then I'll use the pieces and have Ferari make me a new car; fuck it - with this collection I could have a jet, yacht, replica model T, submarine, and I'll use the scraps to build a tank. No need to worry about wasting precious resources - I'm a God among men - I make resources happen," he snaps his fingers then smiles at Stromination, "just like that - because I'm a fucking Godsend."
Malicious Stromination and the multiplicity of Strominites growl and wave their robotic arms at the Super Deviant.
Dan removes a cell phone, the Samsung Galaxy S5, from the waistband of his leotard pants. The phone cover is an Otter Box that boldly states: 'Best Fucking Phone Ever.' He slides his finger along the touch screen and guides the index to an application. He looks at the Stromagnus Brigade, led by the Abominable Malicious Stromination, and signals that this may take another second or two.
"Just a moment," Dan states as he guides his index finger across the touch screen once more. "Ah-HA!" He shouts as he immediately poses. He turns the phone toward himself, purses his lips to blow a kiss, and then takes a snapshot. He briefly looks at the result and then at the ruthless roughshod platoon waging to rip him limb from limb. "Pre-battle selfy," Dan smiles as he continues to scroll through his phone. "Let me just upload this to Facebook real quick and then we can fuck up shop, ya'dig?"His eyes went from a cold steel blue to bright red. Dan Van Slade began to shoot red rays of light toward an army of cybernetic drones. The blasts wipe out several drones, but this platoon has back up. Several more robotic organisms leap over the edge of the tallest building in this city, which seems to stretch beyond the clouds for a few miles and abandoning all laws of physics and structure. Super-Devious Dan Van Slade hovers about a foot above the roof floor. His hair is gelled back, but a long wet curl resembling a pigs tail drapes his forehead. A blue cape with a centered SD logo flaps violently in the wind since it's blowing constantly and often ferociously at this height. Dan puffs out his chest and the SD logo shines proudly in the night sky somewhere above the mesosphere.
"Strominites," The Super Deviant of Planet Hipton growls as he glares at the upcoming onslaught. He grinds his teeth, and snarls. "I DESTROY Strominites!" He shouts and his eyes begin to glow red. The Devious Super Being is halted by the oncoming thud, and torrential tremors.
A large robotic hand grabs the buildings ledge; the hand webbed and weaved with wire, bolted and welded together. The behemoth organism pulls up with one hand and whips itself onto the roof. The half robot, half human behemoth stands about sixty yards away. This creature wore a human face, but most of its head had been replaced with high grade steel and wire. A technology-human crossbreed like something out of the Robocop franchise, only envisioned by comic book nerds with a rather enlarged imagination. The creature stood about eight feet tall, and every limb was its own battle; all grotesquely gigantic and designed for violence. The organism takes a step forward, and the pistons exhale in his robotic knees.
"Malicious Stromination" Super Deviant grins, grinds his teeth and prepares for battle by wielding two fists like a boxer. "I hope you brought your shirt cannon?" Van Slade questions. He stares at the behemoth cybernetic organism through the two Godly hammers he likes to call fists. Stromination takes another step and his knee pistons roar. He raises a fist at the Super Deviant, and the gears in his shoulders pop and whiz. His voice is hollow, echoing through steel tubing and gritty like an aged smoker.
"I'll use your flesh as the leather bound cover of my autobiography," says the vicious machine, and it creates a frightening sound when it slams its steel fist into its hand. He loudly exhales and two cannons, double-barrels with just under a foot in diameter, are distributed out of Stromination's back via a delivery mechanism. The weapons rest on its large shoulders and the sights are set; the crosshairs are on the Super Deviant. Dan Van Slade hasn't had his final word.
"Did you say auto?" Van Slade curiously asks. He tilts his head to the left, ponders, and glares at Malicious Stromination. "Because I'm quite certain I'm going to tear you, and your little pansy-ass robo-henchmen to shreds," He stands at attention and puffs out his chest to promote the SD super-logo; and perhaps his rock-hard nipples that could cut glass like a diamond. "Then - then I'll use the pieces and have Ferari make me a new car; fuck it - with this collection I could have a jet, yacht, replica model T, submarine, and I'll use the scraps to build a tank. No need to worry about wasting precious resources - I'm a God among men - I make resources happen," he snaps his fingers then smiles at Stromination, "just like that - because I'm a fucking Godsend."
Malicious Stromination and the multiplicity of Strominites growl and wave their robotic arms at the Super Deviant.
Dan removes a cell phone, the Samsung Galaxy S5, from the waistband of his leotard pants. The phone cover is an Otter Box that boldly states: 'Best Fucking Phone Ever.' He slides his finger along the touch screen and guides the index to an application. He looks at the Stromagnus Brigade, led by the Abominable Malicious Stromination, and signals that this may take another second or two.
"Just a moment," Dan states as he guides his index finger across the touch screen once more. "Ah-HA!" He shouts as he immediately poses. He turns the phone toward himself, purses his lips to blow a kiss, and then takes a snapshot. He briefly looks at the result and then at the ruthless roughshod platoon waging to rip him limb from limb. "Pre-battle selfy," Dan smiles as he continues to scroll through his phone. "Let me just upload this to Facebook real quick and then we can fuck up shop, ya'dig?"
The upload finishes, and then the Man they call Super Deviant takes a final journey through the netherworld's of his cellular device to land on a little application called Pandora.
"Initiate WHOOP ASS MUSIC ...!" His voice escalates and resonates with the cybernetic bastions of death as he unhinges a small kick-stand built within the phones outer safety cover. He walks the phone to a generator placed significantly in the center of building's rooftop. He places the phone on top of the generator but the heavy winds due to being at a historic height that defies all laws of nature and physics tend to keep blowing the phone over. Dan wastes no time - his eyes light red and then release a red laser beam that begins to weld the phone into the generator's metal exterior. The job is done, and Dan returns a smile. The music begins with the press of a button asProdigy's hit "Smack My Bitch Up" begins to play at the one minute and seventeen second mark.
Malicious Stromination grinds his razor sharp platinum tipped teeth, and growls. He releases a vociferous roar and then suddenly begins to transform from eight foot robotic organism into a clay version that seems to be the image of the 'Wallace and Gromit' claymation designers. His claymated cannons explode and released are four large missiles directed at the newly claymated Super Deviant. His clay cape waves in the wind as his bulbous eyes widen. The Strominites engage, and some reveal large robotic-clay tentacles that begin to guide them toward the Super Deviant as if he were fighting ingrate robotic offspring of Doctor Octopus.
The missiles explode halfway through their journey and their innards - twenty t-shirts with the face of WCF Superstar Maelstrom's advertised all over them.
"Such a PAIN in my ASS!" Van Slade shouts as he shoots heated laser beams from his eyes. The beams clash with the oncoming wave of deadly Maelstrom paraphernalia and the linen explodes into ashes that fall onto the roof top like snow flakes. His accuracy is impeccable and he doesn't miss a t-shirt. Malicious Stromination is pleased, but not impressed with his goons. He looks at his stagnant army and angrily advises them to take charge.
"FUCK...HIM...UP!" The machine commands, and he signals toward the Super Deviant. The Strominites all positively release an outburst and then the brigade disbands in multiple directions of attack.
A tentacle rages toward the most Devious Super Being in the galaxy, but he counters with a laser beam that melts the steel into a liquid that pours to the rooftop floor and quickly solidifies into an amoeba-esque puddle of fail. A Strominite attacks with a whipping tentacle from the side but the Super Deviant is too quick to be had, and he delivers a furious left hook that blasts the tentacle and sends the Strominite swirling like a helicopter into the starry sky. Another Strominite wastes no time, and slithers a tentacle around Super Deviant's ankles, but the Galactic Bad Ass is capable of responding with a laser beam that frees him from the grapple. A hovering Strominite releases a net from above Van Slade, but the Magnificent Milky Way Warrior shoots another set of beams that burn a hole through the netting, and then straight through the cybernetic core of the Strominite's being. The robot instantly explodes and showers the scene with metallic limbs and firey embers of a lost battle.
A heat wave separates the villainous Malicious Stromination from his ultimate doom at the hands of the Ole' Dirty Disciple of Deviance; the Super Deviant - Dan Van Slade. Their eyes meet, and glow red. Dan Van Slade half smirks. Malicious Stromination growls and bellows an immense roar that grabs the Universes by the nutsack! The event is briefly stunned by the consequential Earthquake following Strominations war cry. Stars in the sky begin to explode and sparks rain from above and onto the battlefield. The quake ceases, and Stromination pushes the pistons into overdrive.
"Oh, this should be good," The Super Deviant says to himself as he examines the onslaught heading directly for him. Malicious Stromination pounds his titanic boots into the rooftop's surface and charges toward Dan Van Slade like a rhinoceros in the heat of battle. The claymated Dan Van Slade is somehow capable of transforming the index and ring finger of his right hand. The fingers begin to grow larger then their neighboring appendages into two sharp and lengthy sword-like defensive pikes.
The cybernetic death machine is on a mission, and it doesn't end until Dan Van Slade's life ends. Malicious frantically waves his arms and destroys his own soldiers in his war path. He sends Strominates flying through the night sky, and there are some that explode due to the phenomenal sledgehammer like force of Malicious' cybernetic arms.
His journey ends when the two elongated sword fingers of the Greatest Galactic Super Deviant are accurately inserted through both of his eyes, through the woven web of wire and motherboards that make up his cybernetic brain, and instantly ripping through the back of his steel plated skull like a piece of paper. Malicious Stromination's face is a portrait of defeat. His body weakens, and becomes limp. The Super Deviant smiles, and hovers the rooftop with his capability to fly. He escalates to about nine or ten feet, and Stromination's life-less cybernetic clay body dangles from Van Slade's shapely arsenal. A crack; a rip; a tear.
"Goodbye," says the AOL voice over for the computer system within Stromination's internal core processor. Van Slade takes one powerful yank, and Malicious' torso rips from the neck and falls to the rooftop with a dusty thud. All Strominites cease, and shut down with Malicious' defeat at the hands of the true North Star - the Doctor of Deviance, and Master of Victory - the Super Deviant - Dan Van Slade. The proud Prince of Hipton transforms his hand to its original state, and his fingers slide from the gaping holes that once were ocular ports for Malicious' lenses. The Super Deviant hovers above a technological atrocity, and post-apocalyptic massacre with the head of the Stromagnus General in the palm of his hands. He stares down at his trophy, and work.
"That was easy," he pleasantly responds as a few Strominites, casualties of war, spark and pop in the foreground.
The head of Malicious Strominite twitches. This could be a postmortem cybernetic attack? Could his head be a bomb? The eyelids begin to flutter. Van Slade watches the eye lids quickly pop open and the lenses have returned to their normal state; but the left eye has the number '8' in the center, and the right eye says '30'. Stromination's mouth opens wide and the robotic head releases a screeching alarm. Van Slade looks irritated, and annoyed. He slaps the face of his beheaded enemy but the grueling alarm continues. He shakes the head. He slaps it some more. The alarm continues, and the head suddenly melts in his hands into a slimy brownish-green mush. The sound keeps screeching, and doesn't end.
Until he shuts off his alarm clock upon waking from his slumber. Because it was all just a dream.
What dreams may come.
The story of 'Devious' Dan Van Slade has yet to be told. Clearly witnessed is the intriguing and irrational immature disposition of an enraged narcissist engulfed with vanity and spellbound with sarcasm. This is not to be confused with microscopic bursts of genius that tend to rarely sneak their way into a situation or conversation. Dan Van Slade is a fool, and an idiot, but he's one Hell of an Athlete. Win, or lose, his longevity only engineers a gigantic fuck-wrench that grinds the gears that guide the Wrestling Championship Federation.
Without seeming cliche - let's delve deeper into the psyche of a scorned, and serious man. There's an answer in there. Reason does exist; albeit there lies the contrast. There may not be any reason at all? Dan Van Slade may never truly be able to give two shits and a proper fuck.
Now, take a gander.
The image in the mirror is the unshaven Dan Van Slade, but it's not the Dan Van Slade most are used to. Remember his recent dream? He's taking it rather serious. He stands poised with his hands on his hips. His chest is puffed out. He's wearing a tight leotard outfit, light blue and blood red in color. The logo positioned dead center on his chest is a large SD in red block text within a yellow diamond outlined in thick red. Yes, he's wearing a cape; and yes - red underwear over light blue tights. An uncomfortable, rather bulbous bulge presents itself. His hair is gelled back, and a curl drapes his forehead like a pigs tail. He's proud of what he has become, albeit disregarding the evident beating he retained from WCF's most glorious event of the year - ONE. He's left a window open in his room so that any sudden draft would lightly lift his cape for effect. There's a knock at the door.
Standing in the doorway is Van Slade's humble Agent. The casually dressed businessman defines a brutally honest suit jacket fashion sense and his Matt Damon looks give him that 'Good Will Hunting' sort of smart vibe; although he's not that smart at all and terrible at business. So, he gives off more of a 'Team America' Matt Damon vibe. He leans an arm onto the door frame and doesn't seem fazed by his clients outlandish outfit. He sighs.
"What the Hell are you doing?" David simply inquires.
"David," D.V.S. continues to proudly pose and amusingly stares at his reflection, "David - I had a dream," he continues with grace, and pleasure. He turns to his agent and takes a deep breath, but passionately responds. "I awoke this morning on an immediate mission," he pauses for a brief moment to perhaps ponder the relevance of explaining his motives to his agent, "and my mission is to rid the WCF of all mediocrity. All CRAP must go. You can't pussy out. I'll get you. One way or the other - the Super Deviant will end you," and Dan wildly stares at his agent while pointing to the SD logo on his ripped chest. "The Super Deviant, ya'motherfucker," he taps his chest three times with his index finger, "that's what this shit is..."
"So, a few weeks ago it's a Mr. Rogers fetish," David says as he folds his arms and continues to hold the door frame up with a casual lean to, "now you're a super hero?" He asks, but doesn't wait for a response. "I don't get it - I don't see how this is going to help you..." David waits for Dan to retort, but the couple is interrupted by a rather odd small fellow sitting in a leather chair in an unforeseen part of the room. He looks like the eye-sore love child of John Lovitz and Danny Devito; small, slightly rotund, balding with a black hair wrap, and a strange bulldog facial disposition.
"There's nothing to get," says the tiny bulbous man in the back of the room. He removes himself from the chair and stands about five feet, two inches tall. David and Dan both stare at him. Dan smiles. David seems confused.
"Who the Hell are you?" Asks a rather estranged David. Dan, or the Super Deviant, turns to his agent and isn't hesitant to respond.
"Who the Hell is this, you ask?" Dan questions, but doesn't allow an answer. "This, my friend, is my career counselor extraordinaire - a one Dr. Perciful Lee; or as some in the world of millionaires like to call him - Doctor Dangerous Lee," and then Dan looks at the microscopic counselor making his way into the conversation. "He's made Kings out of peasants and put the homeless in mansions; he's probably a fucking legend but let's not get into that discussion..."
"He has a wonderful talent," Dr. Lee states as he stops in position closer to David so that he gets the Agents undivided attention. "It's true that he is his burden, but you can't stop the man from following his dream," Lee turns to Van Slade. "He's a God damned legend in the flesh, David. The true Son of a Bitchin' definition of what the future has in store for the professional wrestling industry. You've got a gold mine before your very eyes and I don't expect anybody to understand the discovery just yet. There's too much at stake here. What do you do with it when you've got it? How do you invest in it? You just...let it ride. You nibble away at time until the fortune becomes your ticket to paradise," the doctor turns his attention to David. "Are you prepared to watch your client escalate through the ranks of WCF and become the next Slickie T? Creeping Death? ICE Beckman? Bobby Cairo...Steve Orbit...need I say more? These names, David - these names are etched into the psyche of so many professional wrestlers that some never snap out of the coma they dive into after facing these legends. Some people never live up to their expectations," and Lee turns to Dan Van Slade, "but this man -" he points at the deviant, "-this man is a mother fucking future legend..."
"I see," David responds. He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm cool with that."
"I was intrigued after our first session," the doctor continues, "and I wanted to maintain further contact with Dan. I felt that he needed my guidance. David, you certainly know how to get a man where he needs to be, but I doubt you know what to do with success once you've got it," but Lee is interrupted by David.
"But," David seems confused, and flabbergasted by the comment, "but I feel like I'm pretty damn successful. I mean - I do own a yacht that I tend to keep docked on the Atlantic shores of Porto, Portugal. I'd say I'm doing pretty well. My son goes to a Catholic school, my wife is a college professor. I live in an affluent Fort Lauderdale neighborhood. I drive a Lexus. Every media center in my home is touch screen. I'm pretty rich, guy," David removes himself from the doorway and is clearly showing off.
"That may be true," says Dr. Lee, "but, money isn't the symbol of success. When you chase a dream - success is more than money - success is literally everything. You don't stop until you own the world," There's a brief pause, and Lee continues. "Your success is nothing compared to the undefinable nature of the atom bomb that's standing before us. I'm not just Dan's counselor, David, but I'm yours as well. I will better the both of you, and we'll start with allowing Dan Van Slade to obtain his dream...," Lee turns to Dan, "...just look at the NUTS on this guy..." both men then glance at the gigantic bulge presented in the Super Deviant's tights. The Super Deviant quickly stands at attention with his hands on his hips. A greasy curl drapes his forehead. A breeze blows into the room and his cape slightly drifts.
"I'm going to fuck some people up," Dan says, chin up and staring at his agent. "I'm gonna have to badly fuck up Maelstrom's world," he continues. "This scabbed piece of shit thinks he can get involved in Dan Van Slade's business? Fuck'em - we aint got no use for this jobberish bullshit and amateurish antics. Cocksucker thinks he's some primed veteran surrounded by bitch-ass wannabes. This guy. A walkin'-talkin' turd with tattoos; as if God ate a few spicy chalupas and took a massive dump on the human race. I'm fuckin'em up real bad...and flushin' his silly ass straight down the toilet..."
"Ok," David studies his client standing before him like something off the cover of an old comic book, "so, you want to be a super hero?" David's question is answered in Dan's own special way. Dan Van Slade removes his Samsung Galaxy S5 smart phone from the waistband of his underwear-tight combination and holds it up for David to see. Dan smiles.
"I don't want to be a superhero," Dan responds, "no - I AM a super hero! And I'll stop at nothing until I've reduced the amount of fail in WCF to zero; until all evil vanquished, and every foe that steps in my way...burned like the charred remains of Maelstrom after our clash at ONE. There's too many mutants in this company, David. TOO MANY, and I'm going to make sure they don't continue to brainwash the masses with their stupidity," Dan presses the home button on his Galaxy, and then quickly glides his finger through a few options. An orchestrated dubstep tune called "Slay It," by Cryptex, blasts through the small speaker on the back of the phone. Dan oddly stares at his agent, and Dr. Lee. He mouths the words 'SLAY IT', which begins the bouillabaisse of climactic dubstep. Van Slade bobs his head back-and-forth, to the sides; he rotates his head in a circle. The serious nature of his motives are clear as he introduces his next chapter "I...am the Super Deviant," Dan shouts over the music as David blankly stares. Dr. Lee is bobbing his head with the music. "THE MOTHERFUCKING ALBATROSS!" Dan shouts.
"ALBATROSS!" Dr. Lee yells out. He throws his arms in the air as if he's being saved by a crazy Southern Baptist Preacher.
David still stands in the doorway. The agent takes a deep breath, sighs, and watches Dr. Perciful Lee continue an attempt to dance that's transforming into odd swaying. Dan Van Slade holds his head high, with his fists on his hips. Another breeze lifts Dan's cape. Dan suddenly begins to glow from the Sun's ray of light pouring through the open window behind him. A figure of myth, lore and legend.
The following is an excerpt from the transcript between Dr. Perciful Lee and Dan Van Slade. The interview was conducted on December 30; two days following Van Slade's loss at WCF ONE.
From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Client No. 023. Dan Van Slade. December 30, 2014.
Dan Van Slade: I lost.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Yes, and your point is?
Dan Van Slade: I should have won.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You're going to have to sacrifice a loss from time-to-time, especially on your way to the top.
Dan Van Slade: I lost to a Boy Scout Leader, and a guy who dubs himself the King of the Internet. I'm the best fucking thing that's happened to this place, Lee. THE BEST. How does this happen? HOW DO I LOSE TO A BUNCH OF RETARDS?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well...
Dan Van Slade: Maybe I should try my craft at something else? I've trained non-stop. I don't give up. I don't let up. I don't let these assholes push me down. In over a month I went from being the next best thing to being pinned by Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo in the same match; then I watched Jayson Price steal my victory like a bad virus. [Loud Hmph] Sons a bitches...no-good, SONS A BITCHES! Maybe I should take my college degree and be an accountant?
Dr. Perciful Lee: That option is still available for you.
Dan Van Slade: I smoked my degree. Layered the insides with a lot of light green, purple and orange hydroponic cannabis. I smoked it about two years ago. Why do I do stuff like that?
Dr. Perciful Lee: It's just who you are. You can't be mad at that.
Dan Van Slade: I smoked my college degree, Lee. I SMOKED IT. How do I obtain a bright career when I took the one piece of paper that matters most in my life, rolled it up, twisted the ends, lit it, and became the true definition of a higher education?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well, you have transcripts. You don't have to tell employers that you used your college degree to get stoned.
Dan Van Slade: I just don't understand it, Doc. I just don't. David gets me signed to the WCF because I'm a damn fine athlete in the ring. DAMN FINE. I've wrestled men far bigger, better, and more athletic than ANY fucked-up legend this company has to offer. Yet - there I am, once again surrounded by several individuals vying for my pride. Then, then this asshole named Maelstrom comes along and whips his tiny pecker out to piss all over MY parade? Fuck him. Fuck him AND his stupid dialect. Fuck his past, and fuck the fact that he's become the biggest burden in my rise to stardom.
Dr. Perciful Lee: So, would you say that Maelstrom is your biggest hurdle to leap? Is this why you feel the need to question the career you've chosen?
Dan Van Slade: No. There's nobody in the WCF that's threatening my career. I threaten my career. It's just the way my fate is going, Doc. There's no man in this company, not Steve Orbit, not Jayson Price, not a Vapor Queen or Queen Internet, nor an overloaded shirt salesman who can stop me. I'm still up. I'm still alive. I still got it. But, by the looks of it - if things continue to go the way they're going - I'm just going to have to push it into a new gear.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Tell me, Dan; what did you aspire to be when you were young?
Dan Van Slade: Well, I wanted to be in Porn. Then, when I was eight, I wanted to sell opiates like the laid back hippie guy who lived down the street from me. But, I didn't tell anybody that. These were ideas. I didn't want to be in an Electrician's Union like my father, or a Service Desk Consultant at Target like my mother. I don't dig every day jobs and careers like some pragmatic individuals in this world. I'm a dreamer, like the Generation Me kids of today. I wanted to be famous, and I wanted my name to be known by the entire world.
Dr. Perciful Lee: A drug dealer wouldn't help that. That's small stuff. That's a hobby, not a career. That's a hobby that gets you put behind bars for a few years, or a lifetime.
Dan Van Slade: It didn't happen, so I could care less. My personality could get me behind bars, anyway. Like I give a fuck? Truth be told - I've always wanted to be a professional wrestler, but my greatest aspiration was to be a super hero.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Like a Police Officer?
Dan Van Slade: What the fuck? No. I can't STAND the cops, dude. Are you serious? No, I wanted to be Superman, or Batman, or anybody with a unique super power that fights against the antithesis; although Batman is more of a psychotic genius. I want to whoop ass, Lee!
Dr. Perciful Lee: So, what's stopping you from obtaining that dream?
Dan Van Slade: The world.
Dr. Perciful Lee: There's nothing in this world stopping you from being what you want to be, Dan; except for yourself.
Dan Van Slade: You're sayin' that I can be a super hero?
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you really want to be, yes.
Dan Van Slade: Where'd you get your degree?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Yale.
Dan Van Slade: Really? That'd be an expensive shell. It enlightens me to know that there's a Yale graduate willing to tell me I can be a super hero. I've gone my entire life feeling as if this world only offers a practical way of obtaining THE dream. I never thought I'd see the day when somebody from an Ivy League school told me I could dress in tights and fuck the world up.
Dr. Perciful Lee: I'm telling you that anything is possible, Dan. I'm not telling you that you hide a source of inhuman strength and power. We're only human. I'm saying that if you want to be a success - you just have to make it happen. You can't let the world tell you that you can't do what you believe to be possible.
Dan Van Slade: Yes. YES. YES! But, what if I'm already a professional wrestler?
Dr. Perciful Lee: You're old enough to now know that this life is what you make of it. Starting over doesn't mean destroying the entire structure to build anew. Just start now. Tear down a few walls, but keep most of the property in tact. Be a professional wrestler AND a super hero.
Dan Van Slade: I fucking hate the fact that you're fiddling with my ASMR. WHAT A FEELING!
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you truly, honestly feel as if this is going to work - then do it. Don't let a loss get you down. You don't need to change careers because you've lost to three of the best professional wrestlers in the business. Think about it, Dan. Some men would DIE just to be where you are. It's their paradise. You're a professional wrestler! You've made it to the big time! Why leave now? Because you lost to Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo? Jayson Price? Who hasn't? Sure, there are some people out there who may be undefeated against these guys, but these men didn't get to where they're at because all they do is win...
Dan Van Slade: Um, yes they did.
Dr. Perciful Lee: They've taken a few losses along the way.
Dan Van Slade: True, but they win a lot.
Dr. Perciful Lee: The point is - you just need to get over it. Change the landscape, if you will.
Dan Van Slade: And become a fucking SUPER HERO?
Dr. Perciful Lee: And...become a fucking super hero.
Dan Van Slade: Oh man - I'm going to fucking destroy Maelstrom. Wait until Slam. Just wait. I'm so fuckin' hyped. I'm so giddy. I'm so damn anxious to crack his head open and remove his pea-sized brain. That could also be the cocaine talkin'.
Dr. Perciful Lee: If you want to be a super hero, Dan, you should probably tone down on the language.
Dan Van Slade: You think?
Dr. Perciful Lee: You curse, and a lot.
Dan Van Slade: So fuckin' what? Look, you're the one that said it doesn't matter what the world thinks.
Dr. Perciful Lee: True.
Dan Van Slade: So, who fuckin' cares? Look, Doc, Maelstrom has gone around and said all sorts of things in an attempt to prove his worth in this company. I proved that well before he stepped in this ring. Well, a few weeks before. My worth to this company is proven stronger, and far greater. We're both on the same path, but one of us has to win in order to keep moving. I have bigger and better things on my mind now that ONE is over, now that my career is safe, and now that I know for a fact I can be what I've always wanted to be. The only career that's ending is Maelstrom's. The only man dropping out is the Human Hellstorm. Talk a big game, bud. TALK A BIG FUCKIN' GAME. But, I've personally watched you lose two times - and I'm going to have the absolute pleasure to finish the trilogy.
Dr. Perciful Lee: That's the spirit!
Dan Van Slade: Spirit is all that I've got. The Wrestling Championship Federation wants to cripple my journey early by throwing me fodder filled with jobbers. I'm constantly booked against multiple people because they understand the power I possess in the ring. I can destroy MANY at once. And, I have. If only they wouldn't have signed that Maelstrom fuck - I'd have four easy victories under my belt.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You can't blame Maelstrom for your losses.
Dan Van Slade: I don't. I don't really blame anybody. I lost. That's-that. But, I was on a mission to capture the WCF Hardcore Championship before he stepped his fat ass in the ring. While he achieves revelations by deep throating garlic butter glazed breadsticks - I'm achieving my goals. While he's doing his best 'roided Jack Kerouac impression at some stupid fuckin' Buffalo Beatnik Hipster Lounge - I'm winning. While he's drinking cheap sucky-ass beer - I'M TOO BUSY BEING BETTER THAN HIM. I was on a mission, and then he interrupted it. God, I hate when there's annoying bitch-ass mother fuckers who have to get involved in your potential success...
Dr. Perciful Lee: There are always challenges to face. You'll never be let down by the next one, because it's always going to happen.
Dan Van Slade: Well, this Super Deviant of Planet Hipton isn't going to let that mother fucker get in his way any longer. On January fourth - this stupid little grind in my gears is going to finish. I'm going to decapitate Maelstrom in the center of the WCF ring. The world will look in shock as I then retrieve a toolbox from the side of the ring, and a leather belt. I'm going to mount his head onto the faceplate of the belt and then buckle it around my waist. Fuck'em. If he wants to ruin my chances at being the WCF Hardcore and Internet Champion - then I suppose I'm going to have to wear his head around my waist like the trophies I should be wearing already. We already know that's where Maelstrom's head belongs anyway - just below a man's waist.
Dr. Perciful Lee: You need a plan of attack. Talk is cheap, Dan. Talk is very cheap.
Dan Van Slade: Well, I'm a cheap son of a bitch. I let everybody else pay. I don't pay for anything. I conned an Asian guy, who looked like the Chinese version of Steve Buscemi - extremely odd lookin', to steal a few Maelstrom t-shirts for me at ONE. So, not only am I cheap in the way that I am capable of getting squinty-eyed chinks to steal for me, but I'm also cheap enough to pile the shirts in the middle of a random parking lot to re-enact me setting Maelstrom ablaze.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Well, I suppose that's one way to deal with your failures?
Dan Van Slade: Don't use the term failure to represent me. Are you fuckin' insane?
Dr. Perciful Lee: Probably.
Dan Van Slade: Failure is uncertain, and that's because I'm still RIGHT FUCKIN' HERE and seeking vengeance. The only thing certain is death, and that's when we could say I've truly failed. Maelstrom's career has died countless times, but he's resurrected like the Phoenix - from the ashes of a bitch - so that he can step into the ring and get kicked in the fuckin' chin by my Godly boot. Jesus H. Christ - Doc - I'm going to fuck him up pretty bad.
Dr. Perciful Lee: I can see that's how you feel.
Dan Van Slade: I'm gonna rip the Coliseum from his heart. THUS SPAKE SLADEATHUSTRA! I'm going to skin him. Turn his flesh into a fanny pack that I'll use to store the teeth I've pulled from him. I'll chisel his bones into toothpicks so that I can smile pretty after a hearty meal. I'll put his brain in a jar suspended in liquid and display it throughout the world, at every event, so that all men and women know and understand what the brain of a loser looks like.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Ok, now you're just being weird.
Dan Van Slade: Yeah, well, he sang O' Danny Boy. That song fuckin' sucks. I kind of want to see him torn limb from limb because of it. Fuckin' jerk.
Dr. Perciful Lee: Why don't you now focus on obtaining an outfit. Now that you're a super hero - you'll need to look the part.
Dan Van Slade: Remind me to get more than one. I'm going to be a disgusting - violent mess after Slam. Covered in little globs of Maelstrom's innards, blood and chunks of cheek. You know what I've noticed? Maelstrom likes to eat. We should just call him MEALstrom. I should just cut his arms and legs off and cook'em in a stew, then force feed him parts of himself. Something out of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. Olive Garden, Los Pollos Locos - you name it - that sack of fail is greasin' up to get beat. Boy, I certainly hope he deep fried a strategy in that six piece - because there's no stopping this Galactic Crusader of Deviance. I've got a name he can use for me...
Dr. Perciful Lee: The Super Deviant?
Dan Van Slade: No - The Man That Defeated Maelstrom. WITH FUCKIN' EASE.